Reality Bites
by rainy-tiddlywink
Summary: so what would really happen?


Harry Potter and the Book of Foresight  
  
Harry Potter was staring at the dry, cracked floor below the child's swing he was sitting glumly on. It was the only swing left at the small park on Wisteria Walk that Dudley, Harry's cousin, and his gang of bullies had not broken, but the scrawny teenage boy was able to be alone- no one let their children out this late in the evening, so the park was deserted. Harry hardly heard the voices approaching him- he was deep in thought, about what he could not easily say, but the low yells coming closer and closer awoke him from his stupor. Harry looked up through his big round glasses, sweeping a messy strand of hair out of his face. Uncle Vernon would usually have ordered his hair cut weeks ago, but Harry's Aunt and Uncle seemed to ignore him even more nowadays- Harry's friends' departing words were no doubt still giving them nightmares. This did not bother Harry, at least they did not shout at him as much. Still, he thought he'd better head off back home, as he was sure it was Dudley's voice that had interrupted his ponderings, and his only remaining family did not approve of Harry coming back too late- that is, after Dudley returned. Usually this would not bother Harry, but he thought it best to keep his relatives happy- he wasn't in the mood for petty arguments today. Peering through the dim light of the street lamps, Harry saw his cousin and his gang silhouetted next to one of the street's graffiti- covered benches. Harry watched them for a while, staying in the shadows to avoid being noticed, expecting Dudley to bring out the packet of cigarettes he had shoplifted earlier. However, this did not happen and as Harry watched, he stared incredulously at the disruptive gang, taking his glasses off and cleaning them on his huge shirt before chuckling in amazement at his cousin, who was brandishing what looked like a book. This was so unlike Dudley that Harry stared, lost for words, for several minutes, straining to hear Dudley's conversation. "I can't believe its about that freak!" That was Piers Polkiss, who appeared owner of the book. "Yeah, now we know why he's so weird, Big D!" exclaimed another beefy young man, jokily. "It's not.I mean, don't be stupid." Dudley was mumbling, apparently not amused by his friends' talk and perhaps even a little scared. Harry could hear the pitch of fear and annoyance in his overweight cousin's voice and tiptoed closer- there was nothing like seeing Dudley unhappy to lift his spirits. "I mean, Harry Potter is an ordinary enough." "Talking about me, are you?" Harry had leapt out of the shadows at the sound of his name, spoken by one of the newer members of Dudley's gang, who jumped in surprise. The rest eyed him with suspicious eyes- there were many rumours about the Potter boy, not very many of them good. "What's so special about me that you have to go talking behind my back?" Demanded Harry, whilst he still had them open-mouthed. Piers Polkiss brandished his book, "this book," he said, "it's got you in it." "Wow." Said Harry, rather curious, but not wanting to show this in front of his enemies, "I never knew reading was one of your favourite hobbies, Piers." Dudley's new gang member sniggered at that, but soon stopped at Dudley's glare. "I don't read." Said Piers defiantly, "but it's right here on the front page- Harry Potter". "But who'd write about you anyway, everyone knows you're a freak," said Dudley. "Exactly!" replied Piers, "and this book could explain his freakishness. 'Harry Potter is a wizard'", read Piers. "Let me see that!" Harry yelled, grabbing for the paperback volume. But Dudley had already snatched it out of his friend's hand and hurled it into the wheelie bin. "I'm going", said the new gang member, startled by Harry's sudden outburst.  
  
"Yeah, me too- I don't want to stay around that freak too long, Big D," Dudley started to walk home to number 4, Privet Drive, after waving a hand in acknowledgement to his gangs' farewells. Harry jogged a few steps to catch up. "So, Big D," sneered Harry. "Where'd you get that book from?" "I don't know," replied Dudley, still seeming rather nervous, "but it doesn't matter, anyway, it's not about you, it's just made up rubbish." And Dudley spoke no more for the rest of the journey. Harry was laid in bed. The rest of the Dursleys were asleep, but he was wide awake. He couldn't stop thinking of the book with his name on. It was probably nothing, but could it be possible that Dudley's gang had stumbled upon some books from his world, the wizarding world? It seemed highly likely to him- after all, his name was in practically every copy of the Daily Prophet nowadays, and he cringed every time he saw his face beaming from the paper. But at least most comments were complimentary at the moment- everyone thought him a hero after the revelation of Voldemort's existence last year. But if it was a wizard's book, how did Dudley get it? And what exactly did it say about Harry? His head buzzing with questions, Harry decided he would investigate tomorrow, try to find the book in the bin. He took his glasses off and placed them on his bedside table, his eyes momentarily seeing the pictures he kept close to him. He turned back and stared into his parents' smiling faces, then into his Godfather, Sirius' handsome complexion. A lump rose in Harry's throat was he remembered the last time he had been curious.the memory of Sirius was painful, Harry did not want to explore it.he had promised he would never do anything again purely out of curiosity, that he would not allow himself to be reckless.but surely trying to find a book wasn't reckless? No, it was nothing like the misadventure resulting in Sirius' death, Harry decided. Tearing his eyes from the moving photograph, he tried to forget the memories that had been haunting him all summer, tried to go to sleep. 


End file.
